


Homecomings

by Joules Mer (joulesmer)



Series: Strange Courage [6]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Baby Kirk-McCoy, Five Year Mission, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-05 18:32:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15869352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joulesmer/pseuds/Joules%20Mer
Summary: The five year mission draws to a successful close and it is, in Leonard McCoy’s opinion, “a god-damned media circus.”  A final story of endings, confronting loss, and new beginnings.





	1. Chapter 1

Jim broke protocol as the Enterprise entered standard orbit, and for once not even Spock seemed inclined to criticise the decision. _Unauthorized personnel on the bridge_. Perched on top of the railing behind and to the side of the captain’s chair, one of Leonard’s arms curled around him for balance, Christopher Kirk-McCoy watched wide-eyed as Earth grew from a dot to a blue green glow as they passed Mars and entered into a geosynchronous orbit over the bay.

Ducking his head, Leonard’s lips brushed a small ear as he said, “You see that, darlin, that’s home.” It wasn’t the most discreet of whispers, cutting through the excited tension apparent amongst the adults stationed across the bridge. 

Jim had to school his broad smile into something more captainly as he ordered Uhura to open a comm channel. Headquarters snapped into view and Jim felt a flush of pride at the size of the welcoming committee. It looked like most of the admiralty was crammed into the room, although they were all smiling despite the tight fit.

Tugging his uniform into place as he stood, Jim’s voice rang clearly across the bridge, “Admirals: this is USS Enterprise reporting completion of our mission.” He’d practiced the words in his quarters that morning, rolling them around his mouth as if he could taste the syllables. It had been a long five years.

Chandra replied on their behalf, “Acknowledged, USS Enterprise. Welcome home.” Command erupted into applause and Jim could feel his cheeks pinking slightly. 

Settling for a smile broad enough to convey his appreciation, but still proper for the live broadcast, Jim waited for the applause to die down before continuing with the formalities. “We are prepared to dock with orbital station one momentarily, after which I will have the crew stand down for disembarkation.”

Chandra nodded, real warmth in his eyes as he replied, “We look forward to seeing you on Earth shortly, Captain.”

The transmission ended and a view of the surface filled the screen, the Pacific glowing blue even as scattered clouds partially obscured the view of the bay. Jim felt a tug in his chest of _home_ and blinked in surprise, taking a moment to breathe out long and steady before turning to address his crew, injecting an easy levity as he said, “You heard the admiral. Let’s get docked and then announce disembarkation according to the circulated timeline.”

A chorus of “aye, sirs” sounded as Sulu and Chekov maneuvered the ship towards the orbital station; amidst the bustle of activity, Jim allowed himself a moment to catch Leonard’s eye and smile. He didn’t miss how the doctor’s arm tightened around their son, a spark of excitement and nervousness and something else entirely dancing in Leonard’s eyes. Joanna McCoy was twelve years old, almost a teenager, and no doubt a source of the bittersweet apprehension he could sense from the other man. They’d agreed with Jocelyn that she’d be waiting for them in Georgia in five days, after all the hullabaloo and meetings in San Francisco died down. 

The docking procedure went quickly, waves of crewmen shuttling and beaming down until it was the senior staff’s turn. Shifting Christopher more securely into the crook of one arm as he stood uneasily on the transporter pad, Leonard leaned away from small ears to grouse, “It’s going to be a god-damned media circus.”

Standing in the center, Jim’s eyebrow twitched at the comment and he replied out of the side of his mouth, “I don’t know, Bones. It’s not like we’ve saved the world again _particularly_ recently.

Rolling his eyes heavenward at egotistical captains, Leonard’s reply was cut off by a swirl of energy and then...

A _cacophony_ of noise; a mob of people and aliens jostling to best position their recording devices as they yelled:

_“Captain Kirk! Captain Kirk! Associated Press… How does it feel to complete the five year…”_

_“Captain Kirk, Newsline: Are you proud of…”_

_“Commander Spock, as a Vulcan…”_

_“Doctor McCoy! As the captain’s partner and father of...”_

_“How does it feel to…”_

A line of fleet security struggled to hold the crowds back. From within the security cordon a waist high blur of yellow sundress and dark hair detached itself from the crowd and rocketed up the dias to slam into Sulu with a cry of, “Daddy!”

The pack of photographers switched focus to capture the moment, then turned as one back towards the centre of the group where Jim had raised a hand, the smile on his face turning slightly fixed as he spoke over the crowd, “Thank you for this warm welcome. The successful completion of our mission would not have been possible without the dedication and sacrifice of my entire crew, who were exemplary through both successes and challenges. I’m sure Starfleet will release official statements following debriefing tomorrow.”

When it was clear the captain wasn’t going to say anything more, the cacophony kicked off again, somehow even louder than before:

_“Captain Kirk, does your son...”_

_“Do you have anything to say to the people of…”_

_“Can you comment on…”_

“Ё-мое.” Chekov’s mutter came from near Leonard’s ear and he realized the navigator had moved to shield Christopher from the crowd, with Uhura shifting to do the same on his other side. He flashed them a grateful smile, then moved to follow Jim through what could only be described as a gauntlet of reporters.

The first formal debriefing and reception was scheduled for the following day, but command had insisted they come down early to “get settled.” Leonard now wondered if that hadn’t been dreamed up by a PR hack to get them roped into just this kind of media circus. They had all been assigned officers’ apartments in the Presidio, although if _this_ was what San Francisco was going to be like he suspected Spock and Uhura would be decamping as quickly as possible to the high walls and noise dampening fields of the Vulcan embassy several miles outside of the city.

Starfleet security seemed to be funneling them towards a ramp that led down to the transport garages, and Leonard felt uncomfortably like a rabbit being chased into a warren. Despite the protective knot of crew there was a sudden presence beside his elbow and a voice in his ear, “There’s a pack of photographers wanting to capture the Enterprise baby’s first steps on grass and they’ve figured out where the fleet is likely to house you.” _Philip Boyce_. Leonard hid his surprise from the trailing reporters and kept walking with the group.

The day Enterprise had returned to comms range after the Hav’yhr incident one of the first things Jim and Leonard had done after coming off duty was contact Starfleet Medical and request a connection to the Surgeon General’s office. He remembered the silence in Jim’s quarters as they waited for the connection to go through. Leonard still underweight and aware, to an experienced doctor’s eyes, that he looked like a man still emerging from a convalescence; Jim cradling a mercifully dozing Christopher in his lap, smoothing his hand through blonde locks in a gesture that appeared for his own comfort as well as that of his son.

Leonard had intended to break the news gently, unsure how the Admiral would react to his choice of name. He’d wanted to explain the incident and Christopher’s accelerated growth and ask for a discreet paeds consult _and_ just hope that someone in Starfleet command would offer some reassurance that they were _doing the right thing_.

Instead, the moment the connection went through Jim had held a sleepy Christopher up to the camera and with a winning smile said, “His name is Christopher James Kirk-McCoy and he’s in need of a grandfather. Know anyone?”

From that moment on it was Philip Boyce who Leonard commed for a second opinion when Christopher’s childhood illnesses kept him awake at night, and, Leonard suspected, _Admiral_ Boyce who had been an advocate for them and Christopher continuing on with Enterprise’s planned mission. 

A glance sideways revealed the older man was in his full dress uniform, complete with the little insignia denoting him as the Surgeon General: no wonder he’d been able to pass through the security cordon. Boyce continued without missing a step: “My flitter’s in the VIP parking bay six. Just walk past your assigned car and get in mine. There’s a child seat in the back and the nav has directions programmed already. Don’t wait for me.” With that he melted back into the crowd and Leonard did his best not to stumble in surprise.

Sure enough, there was a sleek ‘fleet owned vehicle waiting for Jim and Leonard, with a larger transport for Uhura, Spock, Scotty and Chekov; Sulu, Ben and Demora had vanished together several minutes ago. Waving a goodbye to the others, Leonard quickly walked over and rapped sharply on the window of his assigned transport. When the lieutenant in the driver’s seat cracked the window, Leonard barked, “Congratulations, you’re officially a decoy. Tint the windows and head to wherever you were supposed to drop us off.”

He turned without waiting for a reply, grabbing Jim by the elbow as the captain reached to open the vehicle’s door and dragging him swiftly towards bay six instead.

“Bones!” Jim twisted, surprised to find his ride starting to drive off empty, but letting himself be carried along by the doctor, “What?” 

Leonard yanked on the rear door of the vehicle parked in bay six and found it opened at his thumbprint. There was a brand new child seat secured in the back, and a pair of preschooler-sized sunglasses waiting on the cushion. Perfect. “Hop in, Jim,” Leonard quickly transferred Christopher into the vehicle and secured the harness in place. Satisfied his son was secure, he climbed into the other side of the front seat and turned on the vehicle, activating the window tint as he did so and setting it to maximum.

“What’s going on, Bones?” Jim couldn’t help joke despite his blue eyes widening in confusion, “Are we stealing a car?”

“It’s Boyce’s.” Sure enough, there was an address programmed into the autopilot. Leonard activated the program without querying the mapping system. “He said the press know where the brass were planning to house us.”

“Where are we going?”

“No idea.”

The vehicle pulled out of the shuttleport and turned into traffic without any fanfare or pursuit and Leonard felt a rush of relief at the headlines Boyce had just helped them avoid. The Kirk-McCoy baby… The Enterprise baby. The press hadn’t mellowed in the thirty-odd years since they’d dubbed Jim the “Kelvin baby,” and Leonard would do just about anything to avoid subjecting his son to something similar. Even lightyears from Earth there had already been a tabloid headline that screamed, _Forget the dreaded dad bod: check out the hottest fathers in the Federation!_ Jim had framed entry #1 and placed it next to his desk where he could regularly admire the accompanying photos of them both: slightly grainy images shot through the privacy netting of their beachside villa on Centares II during shore leave. Leonard, biceps flexing as he held Christopher in one arm, the child’s face thankfully hidden beneath a large sun hat. Jim, shirtless as he pointed something out in the ocean. 

As the vehicle left the city Leonard started to wonder if they weren’t heading to a more private hotel after all, but it was only when they passed the sign for Shelter Cove that he suddenly appreciated what was happening. Reaching out, he grasped Jim’s hand tightly. Looking away from the scenery for a moment, Leonard found his husband looking out the window in apparent confusion. Of course, Jim had probably been too worn out to remember the route the one time they’d been here before.

Before Leonard could comment, the car pulled into a narrow driveway, stopping in front of a rancher built to hug the hillside over the ocean. Jim glanced over to Leonard and asked, “Is this?”

“Their house, yeah.” _Their_ slipped out without real thought, although it was six years later.

Jim gently gathered Christopher from the back seat without a word, carrying him to the porch while Leonard walked alongside. The door opened at Jim’s thumbprint and they stepped inside to find it just as Leonard remembered: the living room was open to the kitchen and dining area, a large stone fireplace partially separating the space. A comfortable sofa and tack trunk still being used as a coffee table. Large windows dominated the ocean side of the building, bringing summer sunlight and a view of the horizon. The same photo that had been in the corner years ago was now more prominently displayed on the mantle: Pike and Boyce, side by side and smiling at the camera, hands between them loosely entwined.

“Hello?” Jim raised an eyebrow when there wasn’t a reply to his call. “I guess no one’s home.” He set Christopher down between them, but held tightly to one small hand. It felt like they were intruding, despite the owner arranging their presence. Glancing sideways at Leonard, Jim saw similar unease mirrored on the doctor’s face.

A pile of building blocks and a small stack of children’s books on a soft rug in the living room caught Christopher’s attention and he twisted out of Jim’s grasp, hurrying over to inspect the offering. Jim’s hand fell slackly to his side, fingers twitching as if they wanted to reach out for Leonard’s hand.

Looking towards the kitchen, Leonard spotted something left for the adults as well: two empty beer glasses on the dining room table, with a padd propped against them. Seeing his son happily occupied, Leonard tugged on Jim’s elbow and led the way through to the dining room to pick up the padd. It was a short note:

_Someone at HQ leaked your accommodation and itinerary for the week. The tabloids are likely to be relentless; they’ve been pushing for interviews with everyone from superior officers to people who knew you at the academy. You’re welcome to stay here and transport in to HQ for the briefings and press conferences. There are two bedrooms and an office you can use if you take the stairs by the fireplace. I’m on the other side of the house._

_Grab a beer from the fridge. There’s lunch in there too if you’re hungry. I’ve got to put in an appearance at a research chair meeting, but should be able to escape medical by five. Make yourself at home._

Leonard suddenly realized it was indeed a _home_ : four bedrooms at least, and a dining room table that could easily seat eight. 

So far as they knew, Boyce had been living alone in it for five years.

A glance sideways and the set of Jim’s jaw told him his husband might be having a similar realization. “Well,” Leonard cleared his throat, “shall we take him up on that drink?”

“Yeah,” there was something husky in Jim’s throat as well, “that sounds good.” They busied themselves pouring the drinks, then clinked glasses with a smile, Jim entangling their free hands as he said, “Welcome home, Bones. Here’s to terra firma.”

It was enough that Leonard laughed, leaning easily against the table as he replied, “Unlimited fresh air and real gravity. Life is good!” 

Jim chuckled, pulling his husband flush against his side as they sipped their beers, enjoying the unexpected quiet. After a minute or two Christopher appeared around the fireplace, clearly wondering where his fathers had gone.

Setting his glass on the kitchen table, Jim crouched down to address his son, “Hey, Critter, what do you think?”

Three years old, if you went by development rather than the two in the calendar, and the kid could already convey a remarkable range of emotion through his eyebrows.

Jim chuckled. “Come on, Grandpa Phil will be home later, but I’ve got something to show you.” Ignoring Leonard’s raised eyebrow, he picked up his son and carried him through a set of glass doors that opened off the kitchen and onto a large deck. “This,” Jim waved a hand, expansively, “is the ocean. Remember your book from Janice, with the whales and the turtles and the sharks and the fish? They all live in there.” It was a sunny day, a few scattered clouds at the horizon only emphasizing the sheer scale of the vista. Gulls wheeled in the middle distance, crying to each other as they swirled and dodged in the breeze.

Mouth a little _o_ of surprise, Christopher’s only comment was a soft, “It’s big.”

Sensing Leonard moving to stand beside them, Jim leaned into the other man’s presence as he agreed, “It’s very big.”

Leonard’s breath tickled Jim’s ear, “You could hide a few Enterprises in there, eh, Jim?” 

Under his breath, Jim grumbled, good naturedly, “That’s beside the point, Bones.” Giving his son a little jiggle, he asked, “Looks like those stairs go all the way down. Think we should explore?”

Christopher nodded, appearing almost overwhelmed after so much time confined to the the ship or the occasional starbase. They had been planetside a number of times in the last two years, but it was a rare treat to be able to take their son down as well.

Catching the boy squinting in the bright light, Leonard added, “Take the sunglasses; and don’t stay too long, I don’t want to have to regen sunburns!”

“Coming with us, Bones?” 

“Next time.” Leonard’s chest ached at how the sunlight, real sunlight, was making their hair glint with gold. “I need to comm Joanna.” His expression softened and he added, “I call grass.”

Jim barked out a laugh at the thought of being able to introduce their son to something so mundane as _grass_. “I guess you’re going to call horses too, Bones?”

A lopsided smile twisted Leonard’s mouth as he drawled in reply, “I figured that went without saying.”

Leonard remained on the deck for a moment after they disappeared down the stairs, breathing deeply to savor the clear, salty air and enjoying the breeze through his hair. A gull cried in the distance and he shook himself, grounding his thoughts back in the present and returning inside. The stairs by the fireplace offered a route both up and down; he checked up first and found a large bedroom with an en suite, generous windows overlooking the Pacific. Following the stairs down revealed a smaller bedroom, bathroom, and office. The bed was made up with a quilt covered in sea creatures, and a low rail fixed to the top half to keep the occupant from squirming out. In the office, the desk had been cleared, but the ready light on the comm console was blinking.

A glance at the chrono confirmed that it was after school in Georgia, and close enough to dinner time that Jo was likely to be at home rather than at the state-wide field hockey tournament that was taking place that week. His little girl was the goalkeeper on the team favored to win, which had played no small part in her capitulation to not being there to greet them. She was far less concerned with media attention than her parents, but fortunately a few reminders from Jocelyn about letting her team down and all her own hard work and practicing through the year had done wonders. The thought of a trophy and the promise of two weeks in Georgia, no Starfleet business, had likely helped as well.

Brushing a hand through his hair to smooth it into place, Leonard input a familiar comm code. He didn’t have to wait long for the connection to go through and couldn’t help leaning towards the camera as he said, “Hey Jojo.”

“Hi Pops!” The shape of her face marked her as Christopher’s sibling, even with her dark hair and hazel eyes. Leonard felt a tug in his chest; his little girl was beautiful. She leaned towards the camera, unconsciously mimicking her father’s posture. “Are you back?”

“Beamed down an hour ago and we’re at a friend’s house in San Francisco. Got to get ready for all the meetings this week.”

Sweeping bangs out of her eyes, Joanna kept her tone deliberately casual, “You’re still coming on Saturday?”

He hated that she felt the need to ask. Doing his best to project all the assurances he wished he could give in person, Leonard said, “Wouldn’t miss it.” He settled more comfortably in the chair, adding, “Jim’s been talking about it non-stop as well. He’s already told the admiralty those two weeks are non-negotiable.” It hadn’t gone over well, either, but Jim had been firm. It was going to be a time for other introductions as well; watching her expression carefully, he asked, “Do you know what Christopher’s never had?”

“What?”

She was smiling, expression open; Leonard offered silent thanks that being thrust into the role of big sister across lightyears hadn’t phased her at all. “A real peach. How’s the tree at your great-gran’s doing?”

“It’s _laden_.”

“Want to be the one who gets to introduce him to peaches?”

“Really?” Her eyes widened; Jo had _loved_ peaches since she was a baby.

Letting his drawl stretch in a manner that was a honeyed note of home, he asserted, “We’ve gotta make a proper Georgia boy out of him; I’ll need your help for that.”

Joanna laughed, all white teeth and twinkling eyes, “What will Uncle Jim think of that?”

Leonard was sure Uncle Jim had better memories of Georgia than Riverside, but wouldn’t try to explain that to his daughter. “All part of the deal: love us, love our peaches.” He grinned at her snort, then turned the conversation back to his daughter, “How’s the tournament?”

It was the right question. She straightened up with a jerk, beaming as she exclaimed, “We’re top seed! We _crushed_ an Atlanta team today. I didn’t let in a single goal.” 

An admonishment about sportmanship died in Leonard’s mouth; he couldn’t help but get caught up in her enthusiasm as he roared in delight, “That’s my girl!”

Jocelyn’s voice interjected, calling from another room: “Joanna!” 

Jo’s gaze flickered off camera, then back to the screen. “It’s dinnertime; I’ve got to go. Love you, Papa.”

“Love you too, sweetpea. Good luck!” The transmission ended and Jo’s image was replaced with the ‘fleet logo, oscillating slightly. Leonard slumped back in the chair, turning to look out over the ocean. He wondered how tall she was; it was hard to tell through the screen. He’d missed so much.

Pulling himself from his musings, Leonard hauled himself out of the chair and made his way back upstairs. The house was quiet, Jim and Christopher obviously still down at the beach. The living room hadn’t changed from what Leonard remembered, the decor still more California and Mojave than reflective of Boyce’s roots on the east coast. Trailing a hand along the back of the sofa, Leonard remembered when Jim had briefly slept there, still weak after his revival. 

Helping himself to another beer from the kitchen, Leonard settled into a high-backed chair next to the fireplace. It was _quiet_. No thrum of engines or bustle of crew, just the faint cries of seabirds audible through the chimney. Leonard took a long pull from his beer. A few motes of fuzz danced in the sunlight.

He was halfway through the bottle before there was a clattering on the deck and the door to the kitchen opened, Christopher dashing back to the pile of blocks and books he’d abandoned earlier, Jm following more sedately.

Leonard raised an eyebrow at Jim, gently admonishing, “You’d better not be tracking sand in here.” Jim’s hair was ruffled by the breeze, despite the product he’d applied that morning in anticipation of the cameras. He looked good. He looked _young_. 

“Relax, Bones: there’s a boathouse at the foot of the stairs; it’s locked, but it has an outside tap for washing sand off your feet.” Pausing on the threshold of the room, he looked carefully over Leonard. “You okay?”

“Yeah, Jim.” He mustered a smile. “Just fine.”

Further conversation was prevented by the front door opening and Philip Boyce stepping into the house; still straight backed and powerfully built, even though hair that had been blonde six years ago had turned grey. Laugh lines crinkling as he took in the small family in his living room, Boyce hung his cover on a hook by the door and said, “Welcome home, Kirk-McCoys.” 

“Gran’pa!” Christopher leapt up, then stopped, jaw dropping as he leaned his head back in surprise, “You’re tall!”

Boyce swept the boy up into his arms with the easy grace of a doctor who had enjoyed his paediatric rotation more than he ever let on. “So are you, son.” Shifting Christopher into his left arm, he reached out to Jim, then Leonard with a firm handshake and warm smile.

“It’s good to be back, sir.” Jim was all sunny smiles as he greeted the admiral and Leonard couldn’t help but grin as well.

“Why don’t I get changed out of this uniform and we can leave the ranks at the door?”

Jim’s shoulders relaxed, seeming to shed the mantle of captain as he nodded, “That sounds great.”

Gently setting Christopher down, Boyce smoothed a hand over the boy’s blonde locks as he continued to address the parents, “I arranged for your bags to be transported over here shortly. There’s everything we’d need for a barbeque in the fridge and a grill set up on the deck, unless you wanted to go out.”

Leonard felt something in him relax as well as he agreed in a rush, “No, that sounds like a great idea.” Twenty minutes later and he was whisking together a homemade barbeque sauce, watching the Surgeon General calmly teaching a three year old to make potato salad. Jim had claimed grill duty, insisting he was a “master of the tongs” despite Boyce’s smirk and Leonard’s snort. Whatever he was doing outside seemed to involve no small amount of fussing, despite the fact that everything was ostensibly ready to go.

Christopher stirred with a large wooden spoon as Boyce swept red onion off a cutting board and into the bowl. It looked like _family_. Leonard thought of his own father and something twisted low in his belly, leaving a hollow sensation of loss in its wake.

The moment was broken when Jim barged into the kitchen, pulling a tray of chicken out of the fridge and demanding Leonard finish the sauce because he was, “starving, Bones, and we get to _eat outside_!”

Dinner was a relaxed, pleasant affair on the deck. Boyce, always attentive over the comm, appeared entranced by Christopher in person. The admiral kept up a steady conversation focused on the boy’s experiences on the Enterprise: aliens he’d met, planets they had visited, shore leave destinations... That, and more lighthearted anecdotes from their deep space exploration courtesy of Jim, and the meal passed quickly.

Now Jim was doing the bedtime routine with the promise of pie and whisky once his son was bathed and asleep; Boyce and Leonard had relocated inside to avoid the chill that arrived with the impending sunset. The bottle of whisky was already open, although they were at least waiting on Jim before cutting into the pie.

The mood had shifted once Christopher and Jim disappeared, a melancholy settling over the table as the two doctors poured themselves scotch and clinked glasses. 

“Thanks for putting us up.” Trying to find an avenue to broach the topic, Leonard eventually offered, “It’s quite the house.”

It wasn’t the most obvious of inroads, but it was understood nonetheless as Boyce took a sip to steady his nerves and explained, “Chris’ career tended to come first,” The surgeon general gave a wry smile of acknowledgement of his own accomplishments, “although mine was by no means an afterthought.” Rolling his glass between the palms of his hands, he continued, softly, “We had a deal: set up a home base while Earthside during construction, a final tour or two on the Enterprise, then when the inevitable promotion to a desk came through we’d take it here rather than a Starbase.” He took a quick sip of whisky, savoring the burn for a moment. “Start our family.” 

Boyce’s gaze had slithered down to the table, and he seemed to address the grain of the wood rather than the other man as he added, “Even after Chris was so terribly hurt on the Narada, we’d meant to postpone, not decided against it. I guess sometimes life has other plans.”

Boyce had been a well respected figure at Starfleet Medical; captain’s stripes enough to let him muscle into the role of Jim’s attending after Khan, despite the fact that every upwardly mobile physician in medical would have been clamoring for the role. Three decorated tours as a CMO, a respected research programme, and a reputation for honesty and steady nerves… it would nonetheless have taken a single-minded dedication to make admiral and surgeon general in six years.

He’d buried himself in his work, Leonard realized. Waiting until Boyce took a breath and lifted his gaze from the table, he asked, “How are you?” 

Boyce considered for a while before answering, “Getting there.” He shrugged and one side of his mouth twisted in a wry smile, “As if there is somewhere to go.” Tapping a carefully trimmed fingernail against the tabletop, Boyce met Leonard’s eyes as he said, “Thank you.” 

At Leonard’s raised eyebrow, Boyce elaborated, “For including me in his life.”

Oh. At the time, it hadn’t felt like a decision at all; simply a natural acknowledgement of the role Christopher Pike had played in Jim’s life, and how Phil had stepped in after Khan, despite his own loss. Unsure how to put the sentiment into words, Leonard gave a wobbly smile and offered, “Thank you. For everything.” 

“He’s a hoot, you know; Chris would have loved him.” Watching Leonard carefully, Boyce topped up both their glasses and carefully added, “You’re doing a good job with him, Len.”

Surprised at the relief that simple statement engendered, Leonard smiled into his drink and softly replied, “Thanks Phil.”

“Hey!” Jim broke the spell, smiling broadly, but tiredly, as he joined them at the table, “You started without me!”

Smirking, Leonard slid a glass across the table and poured in a generous measure. “Not the pie.”

Rolling his eyes at medics and their liquor, Jim dropped into the empty chair and saluted the others with his glass. The conversation turned light after that, mostly the humorous anecdotes that hadn’t been included when Christopher was present due to their more adult nature. Boyce countered with foibles from his own tours, including some as Pike’s CMO.

 

********

Soft snores, a tickle of hair against his bare chest, an arm slung across his belly; Jim swam back to consciousness to find Leonard deeply asleep. The bed was comfortable, but it wasn’t _their_ bed; and there wasn’t the gentle thrumming of the warp core, normally just perceptible in a quiet room. Rolling over, Jim tried to match the tempo of his breathing to the other man’s, but could feel himself becoming more alert instead of falling asleep. He squirmed onto his belly, trying not to disturb Leonard as he did so. Another five minutes and he was even more awake. Resignedly, he gently slipped out of the bed, palming a padd off the dresser as he did so.

Jim pulled on an undershirt and padded downstairs, rounding the fireplace to find a soft light on in the kitchen. 0130 and he wasn’t alone. “I figured at least one of you would be up.” Boyce indicated the chair across from him and Jim slid into the seat. “You should have seen Chris after his first tour as captain. I had to hypo his sorry ass into oblivion on what would have been a fourth sleepless night.” Standing with a wince as his knees cracked, Boyce fetched a second glass of water and put it down in front of Jim, giving the young captain’s shoulder a quick squeeze as he did so. 

Settling back into his own chair, Boyce’s voice was only slightly roughened by the late night as he asked, “Do you want the scuttlebutt?”

Jim gave a mirthless chuckle, taking a gulp of his water before retorting, “Information is ammunition.”

“They want you back out there. On the Enterprise.”

Jim felt a visceral surge as tension released that he hadn’t even appreciated he’d been holding. “Really?”

Unable to hide a smile at the boyish excitement on Jim’s face, Boyce nodded. “I had lunch with Chandra and Barnett yesterday.”

Thoughts racing, Jim stumbled over what he wanted to know, “Did they say how long? Or where?”

“Jim, you could probably write your own mission briefing at this point, but they have a few options in mind. Assuming you want Leonard and Christopher with you, they’ll probably suggest three years, starting with diplomatic priorities in the Laurentian System then moving on to exploration and Federation entry treaties. Five years deep space is probably a possibility again, or parking yourself as vice-admiral of a starbase-- I hear Yorktown could be open, but that’s a long way from Earth. A smaller faction, those who used to think a little more like Marcus, want to put you on an armed cruiser along the neutral zone; it would be gunship diplomacy, Jim, with the veneer of respectability with you at the helm. Not a good ship for a child, either.” 

The first option was more than Jim had hoped for: exploration and _meaningful_ diplomacy in a key sector, a term that would be up for renewal just as they had to consider more serious decisions about Christopher’s schooling, and one that his existing crew were likely to consider a welcome next step as well. It came with the sudden realization that he could relax for the briefings that day, which was a rare gift. It was a tremendous weight off his shoulders, only… The words came out before he even realized he was softly speaking, “What if Bones doesn’t want to go?”

Boyce didn’t even pause, “Has he said that?”

“No.” A sip of water as he tried to gather his thoughts. “He’s been acting…” Jim didn’t know how to describe it; the signs were so subtle, “off-balance.”

“You’re going to Georgia on Saturday, and taking some non-negotiable time off?”

“How did you know?”

Boyce raised an eyebrow as if working with a particularly slow cadet as he repeated, “I had lunch with Chandra and Barnett yesterday.”

Jim ducked his head, flushing at the eagerness he couldn’t keep out of his own voice. “We’re going to get married.”

“About damn time.”

“We were waiting until Joanna could be there too. We don’t have a date, or,” Jim frowned, “Or anything, really. The last six months have been really hectic, and we wanted to talk to Jo and Bones’ family first. You’re invited, of course. If we, once we, figure it all out.”

“I’m no engineer, but Barnett was waxing poetic about some system upgrades for the Enterprise; they want to keep her as flagship as well. If you go for all of them it could be four to five months in spacedock.” Smirking into his drink, Boyce added, “Plenty of time to plan, get hitched, and still have a honeymoon before they ship you back out there. I’m willing to bet you’ve both got plenty of leave stored up.”

“Yeah.” Jim felt a warmth and tingle of excitement at possibilities he hadn’t even started to let himself consider. “Yeah, we do.”

The darling of Starfleet at his kitchen table, complete with bedhead and bare feet. They whispered that James Kirk was a tactical genius, but all Boyce could see was a young man who had matured into a fine captain, but was still a little too uncertain to realize it for himself. Thinking back to his own tours with Chris, the doctor said, “Different people take mission endings in different ways; they usually stir up emotions you never knew you had.”

“But…” Jim ran a hand through his hair, making it stand on end even more rather than flatten down. “We’re going to get _married_.”

“And I’m sure he’s thrilled about that. You should have seen his face when he told me about it after Christopher was born.” Boyce sighed at men and life in general, “Jim, it’s been five years since he’s seen his daughter in person. She’s practically a teenager now; he’s almost died, almost lost you, and had another child. He’s probably nervous, and knows any reunion is colored by likely having to leave again.”

Jim splayed his fingers over the table, feeling the grain of the wood as he considered. Eventually, he asked, “What do you think I should do?”

“Talk to him.”

“That’s it?” Jim had hoped for a little more direction.

“Go to the briefings today, ask for options you might want, but don’t agree to anything. Once you’re both through the circus and see what’s on the table, sit down and talk. Then go to Georgia and talk some more, if you need to.” When Jim didn’t seem able to form a reply, he changed the subject, “I saw a draft version of your schedule for tomorrow: you have staggered briefing timeslots through the morning, but are both required at the reception in the afternoon?”

Jim nodded, aware it was going to be a lot harder juggling childcare Earthside than on the Enterprise. Just another thing to worry about that week.

“Christopher’s name is in the childcare roster at HQ, but my yeoman has two children under six and a very well behaved collie; I told him they were all welcome this afternoon and the two of us could play hookie if they brought their model shuttleport and a selection of vessels. My carpet may not survive, but it might be an easier introduction to other children.”

Jim hadn’t appreciated that was a concern until a solution was offered. Relieved, he nodded, “That sounds great; I think Bones would feel a lot better about leaving him with you than the childcare center.” Jim rubbed at his eyes, “I should try, but I don’t know that I’ll be able to get back to sleep.”

Casually, Boyce took a sip and smirked over the rim of his own glass. “The mild sedative in your water is likely to disagree.” Jim’s jaw dropped, and he looked down at his own glass in disbelief as Boyce added, “You need a good night’s sleep to deal with the brass tomorrow, doctor’s orders.”

An unbecoming whine was plain in Jim’s tone as he protested, “You’re as bad as Bones.”

“Son, I’ve had _years_ more experience wrangling wayward captains.” He leaned closer to Jim with a grin, “I’m way worse.”

Jim’s chuckle turned into a yawn, and with a hand wave of goodnight he rose and padded back to the bedroom.


	2. Chapter 2

“Bones!” Jim caught the other man around the waist, tugging him into an empty meeting room and planting a kiss on his lips before pulling back to ask, “How was it?”

Leonard returned the kiss, flushing to the roots of his dark hair as he admitted, “They’re going to give me a commendation at the reception.” In fact, the debriefing at Starfleet Medical had just about been congratulatory from beginning to end. Even Raske hadn’t been able to find significant fault with any of his major decisions, although there would be more mission-specific deep dives later in the week. 

“That’s great!” Delighted, Jim leaned in for another kiss, running his hands around the other man’s torso until the doctor squirmed back and further away with a groan.

Leonard was laughing, even as he admonished, “Jim, so help me, if you muss up my mess dress...” There was going to be _press_ at the event.

Pulling back to smooth his hands over Leonard’s jacket, Jim assured, “Relax, Bones, you look great.” Better than great, in fact. Devastatingly handsome came to mind, so far as Jim was concerned.

Looking searchingly at his partner’s face, Leonard asked, “How was yours?” The captain’s briefing would have included more scrutiny, that was sure, and their next posting was still uncertain.

Seeing the flicker of concern in hazel eyes, Jim was quick to reassure, “They’re happy, Bones. Really happy. All the treaties are holding, and sciences and stellar cartography are salivating over access to our databanks and specimen containers. We’re in the good books of all the divisions these days, and my promotion list is going to be approved.” Reaching down, he took Leonard’s hands in his own, rubbing a thumb across the back of the doctor’s right hand. “I told them we’re getting married, and that a posting together, with Christopher, is non-negotiable. Barnett and Chandra didn’t seem surprised, but a couple of the admirals looked disappointed. I think they wanted me facing down Klingons across the neutral zone.”

Throat suddenly dry, Leonard licked his lips before nearly whispering, “Did they suggest a posting?”

Something tightened in Jim’s chest, but he kept his voice even as he replied, “Well, we could stay here, of course. I’m sure SFM would give you a research chair and the commandant of cadets cornered me to ask if I’d ever given any thought to teaching. Yorktown Base is looking for a Vice Admiral; it would be a promotion, but essentially a desk job. You could probably get a half-research/half-medical posting there too…” Watching the expression on Leonard’s face carefully, he added, “But they want to give us the Enterprise. Three years: diplomatic and exploratory priorities.”

Something flickered across Leonard’s face, starting in his eyes and then a little wave of tension gathering and releasing in his eyebrows and mouth.

“I just have to give the word…” Jim squeezed the other man’s hands, grounding them both in his next words, “But I want to do something _you_ want too. I told them not to announce anything; that we’d need time to discuss it. We can talk to Uhura and Spock first too. The rest of this week is going to be crazy with more meetings, there’s no point in letting them rush us now.”

A breath Leonard hadn’t realized he’d been holding flew out of him with a gust, tension melting out of his frame as it did so. “Thanks, Jim.”

Unease prickled the back of Jim’s neck at the implication. “I wasn’t going to decide for us, Bones...”

A forestalling hand pressed to the other man’s shoulder, Leonard repeated. “Just, thanks. Okay?”

Jim nodded, gaze jumping over Leonard’s features as he tried to get a good read on the other man’s emotion. Seemingly satisfied by what he found, at least for the moment, he took a step backwards and smoothed down his own dress uniform. “Let’s get to this reception.” He winked, “I have it on good authority that they can’t start without us.”

Leonard laughed, looking suddenly more relaxed than he had in days, “Lead on, Jim.”

 

**********

Five days of debriefing and receptions and speaking engagements and press conferences; Leonard’s head was swimming as he sank down into a deckchair, beer in hand.

Jim turned in his own chair to regard the other man. “You all packed?” 

Leonard nodded, taking a swig of his beer. “Me _and_ Critter,” Jim’s nickname for their son slipped out without him realizing. “Phil’s minding him. How a child can have that much stuff is beyond me.”

Jim chuckled, offering, “Simple, Bones: our friends spoil him.”

“Yeah, well, next time: you’re packing.”

Jim just chuckled harder at the theatrical eye-roll, taking a sip of his own beer. The late afternoon sunshine was warm on Boyce’s deck, the stress of the week melting away with the promise of two weeks in Georgia starting the next day. Remembering a conversation from that morning, Jim said, “Spock asked me if we knew what we’re doing next. He implied they’d be interested in serving with us again, if we take a ship. I said we’re thinking about it.”

Leonard was quiet for so long Jim turned to face the other man. The doctor’s gaze was focused on the horizon, a slight frown creasing his forehead that Jim hoped was from the bright sunlight.

Eventually, Leonard turned to face Jim, reaching between their chairs to take the other man’s hand in his own. “Tell the admiralty that if we can get our crew, we’ll take three years on the Enterprise.”

Jim’s eyebrows jumped; he’d expected much more discussion. “You sure, Bones?” He looked searchingly at the other man’s face, trying to read the emotion. The often-present frown was missing, but the doctor was otherwise inscrutable. Gently, he suggested, “We can think about it in Georgia. There’s no rush to make a decision this week.”

“I’m sure.” Sensing Jim’s skepticism, Leonard continued, “Really. It will be good to have it settled when I’m talking with Jo and Gram, not to mention Jocelyn.” Keeping his expression even, knowing he was baiting the other man, he said, “You’re not ready for a desk, and neither am I. Unless that’s what you want? I’m sure you could have that teaching post Lui mentioned. We could buy a house and you could yell at cadets to get off your lawn.”

“Are you kidding, Bones?” Jim’s eyes sparkled in the sunlight; if Leonard was teasing, then he was more convinced. “Diplomatic priorities in the Laurentian System then moving on to exploration and Federation entry treaties-- it’s right up our alley, and safe enough for Critter.”

Softly, as if he couldn’t believe he was making the suggestion, Leonard asked, “If we’re starting in the Laurentian System with some diplomatic briefs, maybe Jo could come out for a milk run?”

And that was a possibility Jim hadn’t even let himself consider. _Joanna_ on the Enterprise. “Would Jocelyn let her come?” 

“Probably won’t be an easy sell, but if it’s truly a milk run and falls during a school break.” Leonard’s shrug encompassed the tremendous thaw that had happened over the years since the divorce.

“Yeah.” Jim started to get excited, imagining showing her around his ship. Taking her to the stars; having the four of them together with the rest of the crew. His next words tumbled out in a rush of excitement, “Yeah, we could make that happen. Barnett would okay it; I’m sure.” 

Leonard made a happy sound in his throat, surprising even himself. He quickly took a sip of his beer to quell a burst of emotion he could feel threatening to break free. Five years ago the thought of Jo on a spaceship would have given him conniptions, now… he gave a pleased hum at the thought of showing his baby girl what he did, showing her that even on a milk run, it _mattered_. Showing her that the stars were nothing to be afraid of, despite everything that had happened over the last seven years. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sunshine on his face. 

Despite not wanting to ruin the happy moment, Jim couldn’t help but remember his late-night conversation with Boyce earlier in the week. Glancing over at the other man, he steeled himself and asked, “Are you okay?” Leonard’s eyes snapped open. Sensing a denial, Jim pushed the issue by adding, “You’ve been a bit quiet lately, Bones.” Quiet didn’t really cover it, but the captain wasn’t even sure what he was trying to describe.

Leonard’s gaze flicked away from Jim, back to the horizon. Closing his eyes and listening to the seabirds, he could put himself back in Savannah. A deep breath of ocean air helped him voice words he hadn’t let himself say out loud in years: “I miss my dad.”

It wasn’t what Jim was expecting at all. Surprised, his beer settled against the arm of his chair with a little clunk of glass on wood. Feeling categorically ill-equipped to respond, he waited for Leonard to continue.

Another sip of beer moistened his throat, and Leonard tried to explain feelings he didn’t quite understand himself. “With the mission ending and all this crowing about our accomplishments I wonder what he’d think of it all.” His throat seemed to be closing up and he couldn’t voice the underlying question that had been rolling through his thoughts: would David McCoy be proud? Taking a moment to compose himself, Leonard swiped a hand over his face before he continued, “We used to talk. A lot. I commed him a couple times every week from med school just to talk about classes and cases. He used to love to debate medical ethics; sometimes taking a particular position just to rile me up. Once I started practicing, he’d be the one to call when I lost a patient. He understood, you know?”

Jim nodded; he remembered talking to Pike after they’d lost people taking on Nero. Wishing he could talk to him after Khan.

Biting his lip, Leonard forced himself to look back to Jim as he continued, “He missed so much of Jo’s life as well. You should have seen him when she was born. Her first Christmas, Gram had to step in to make him let other people have a turn holding her. He had so many plans: teaching her to ride, taking her to Savannah like he took me. I don’t know what he’d think of me gallivanting across the galaxy, leaving her alone.” 

“He’d know you did the best you could.” Jim’s tone was so confident the other man had no choice but to listen; to simply trust him. Giving a moment for his previous words to sink in, Jim added, “I wish I could have met him.”

One side of Leonard’s mouth curled up in a half-smile at the thought. “He’d have liked you.”

Jim snorted, “I can’t say that was ever a father’s reaction when a girl brought me home in Riverside.”

Lengthening his drawl, Leonard grinned, “Maybe you were barking up the wrong gender, Jim. They knew you were no good for their _daughters_.” 

“Maybe I was a little shit when I was younger, and they knew it.” The tone was light, but there was something cutting in Jim’s voice nonetheless. He kicked his feet out, the heels of his boots scraping across the wooden decking. Leonard simply waited; eventually, Jim said, “I miss Chris.” Scraping the base of the beer bottle against the wooden armrest of his chair, he continued, “He believed in me, when everyone else just thought I was a name. _Kirk_. They were waiting for me to fuck up, Bones. Everyone but him. Then I did fuck up and they took the Enterprise away from me. He was so disappointed, but he still _believed_ in me. I didn’t know what to say. The last thing he said to me before Daystrom? ‘It’s going to be okay, son.’ I didn’t even manage to say thanks.”

“He knew.” Leonard kicked out his own feet as well, muttering more softly, “He always knew.”

Jim sniffed, grateful for the reassurance; grateful Leonard didn’t mention that his eyes were wet.

Leonard gave Jim’s hand a squeeze, trying to convey without words that he was sure of what he was saying, “You know Phil offered to babysit? He suggested we might like a night to ourselves now that we’re free from HQ. If you send that message to Chandra and Barnett, we could have something to celebrate.”

Jim straightened in his chair, noticeably entertaining the possibility as he asked, “What time’s the shuttle tomorrow?”

“1100. Why? You wanna drink?” Leonard raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Need I remind you that every paparazzi in the bay area is trying to get shots of us?”

“Remember Gary Mitchell?”

“Of course.” Hadn’t seen him in years, but easy to remember, “From your flight squadron and hand-to-hand, right?”

Jim nodded, “Survival training cohort too. His wife’s family own the Songbird.”

Thinking back, Leonard had a recollection of a comfortable bar with a good drinks list. “That little place in the Mission?”

“With the top shelf bourbon we could never afford. He dropped me a welcome home message and mentioned that there’s a service entrance in the alley, an alcove table that gets the ambiance without being visible, and decent live music on Friday nights, and it’s,” Jim consulted his padd, feigning surprise, “Friday night.”

Leonard raised an eyebrow. “You wanna go out?”

“I can ping Gary to make sure, but I think he can give us a place where we can just be us, you know?”

A gust of wind ruffled Leonard’s hair, bringing with it the salty tang of the ocean. He breathed deeply, and smiled. “Ask if we can have the table from eight; let’s grab some dinner on the way in.”

Something that might have been relief was palpable in Jim’s voice, “That’s the spirit, Bones.”

 

*******

Smoothing down the front of his grey henley, Leonard adjusted how the chain holding his soon-to-be wedding ring hung between the open buttons. _Soon_ , he reminded himself, after two years of wearing it around his neck. He remembered his father at his first wedding: gifting Leonard a pair of cufflinks that had belonged to his great-grandfather, straightening his tie, calming his nerves. It didn’t bring the same pang of _loss_ as it had earlier in the week; just a longing that it could be different. That David McCoy could be there to meet Jim, and his grandson.

Shrugging on his leather jacket, Leonard gave one last look at himself in the mirror, just in case they were caught on camera picking up their meal. Not too bad, he thought. Of the two of them, Jim was the looker, but he could at least try to make an effort. Turning sideways, he tried to get a look at his profile. At least the ‘fleet fitness requirements kept him in good shape.

“Ready to go?” Jim leaned around the door in a well worn charcoal grey t-shirt and black leather jacket; Leonard suppressed a snort at the thought that they’d already started dressing alike. 

“Yeah.” There wasn’t anything he could do about the bags under his eyes from the long week. He’d be glad when they were in Georgia and could hide away on McCoy property. Squaring his shoulders, he followed Jim downstairs to the living room, reminding himself that in the Songbird they’d be able to have a drink unobserved.

The tack trunk that normally served as a coffee table was open and a surprising array of objects set out on the soft carpet: a faded baseball cap, a curry comb and bridle, a string of wa’nuvian marriage beads, a pocketknife, an older model padd, several polished rocks, Orion coins, a well-worn hardcover book... all the little bits of detritus that accumulated around a person. Christopher and his grandpa were sitting in the center of the semi-circle of possessions, heads bowed in conversation. 

Jim waved at Boyce on the way to the front door, addressing his son as he said, “We’ll see you in the morning. You be good, Critter.” The boy only looked up briefly, more interested in the array of things on the carpet.

As the door shut behind them, Leonard heard Boyce’s warm tones, “Let me tell you about your Grandpa Chris.”


	3. Chapter 3

They grabbed takeout from a fleet-favored restaurant, tinting the windows of Boyce’s car so Jim was only exposed for the thirty-three seconds it took him to dash from the vehicle to the front counter, collect their order, and hurry back. Leonard quickly pulled the vehicle back into traffic, for once grateful for the busy streets. 

The sun set as they ate, parked at a lookout point above the ocean. With the small lot empty they retracted the roof and rolled down the windows to catch the light evening breeze. It was rare to be so _alone_ , and Leonard let a soppy smile alight on his face at how the sunset cast Jim in a healthy golden glow. It was a look he didn’t get to see often enough. 

Jim seemed to be enjoying the view as well, as he set down his empty food container and leaned across the front console with intent: one hand gently cupping the back of Leonard’s neck as he pulled the other man in for a kiss. 

Empty cartons slipped off Leonard’s knees and onto the floor, but he returned the kiss for a long moment before pulling back. Gruffly, but not unkindly, Leonard raised an eyebrow half at Jim and half at the mess of containers and asked, “What the Hell are you doing?”

Jim’s eyes danced in the light, mischievous humor on full display as he replied, “Sunset necking at the drive-in, Bones.” He nipped at Leonard’s lips with a grin and slithered further over the central console, “This is a _tradition_ in Iowa.”

One side of Leonard’s mouth twisted up in a smile, despite his voice remaining stern as he enumerated, “One, we’re not in Iowa; two, we’re not at a drive-in; three, drive-ins don’t exist anymore.

Jim snagged another kiss before pulling back just far enough to say, “Clearly you’ve never been to River Junction: it’s Riverside’s less attractive sister, and it has a drive in.”

Leonard laughed, meeting Jim in a kiss that was briefly a clash of teeth before they got the angle right, and, oh, he could see the merits of this tradition. 

A sweep of headlights in the gathering twilight had Jim reluctantly pull back, pressing buttons for the roof to re-engage and the windows to tint before the other vehicle was close enough to recognize them. Breathing heavily, Leonard adjusted himself in the seat. A glance sideways revealed that Jim was also breathing hard and disheveled, sprawled in the passenger seat with a rueful smile on his face.

Quirking an eyebrow, Jim started, hopefully, “You know what else is a tradition…”

Leonard cut him off with a snort, “You are _not_ blowing me in Boyce’s car.”

“Oh, Bones,” Jim pouted, “How did you guess?”

Rolling his eyes, Leonard powered the car on fully and input the address of the bar, maneuvering around the other vehicle and back to the road.

The band was just getting ready to play a first set when they slipped into the Songbird from the alley. It was just as Leonard remembered: old wood, good bourbon, and an ambiance that felt like home. It was Gary Mitchell’s sister-in-law Sarah who led them towards the alcove table with a smile and a clear promise that they could consider themselves unobserved, despite the partial view of the small stage and ambient hum of people talking at the bar. Relaxing into the booth seat, shoulder to shoulder with Jim, Leonard allowed himself to lower his guard outside of Boyce’s house for the first time in days. 

Jim splayed his fingers on the table, caressing the real grain of the wood as he asked, “Glad we came?”

Seeing Sarah approaching with two glasses, a bucket of ice and tongs, and a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle's Family Reserve, Leonard felt almost giddy as he growled in appreciation, “Oh, Hell, yes.”

She dropped them off with a smile, “If you want anything else comm the bar’s office line, otherwise I’ll assume you’re enjoying yourself.”

Leonard smiled beatifically, “You’re an angel.”

She waved a hand dismissively, but laughed as she did so. “Thank Gary: he may have told me what you liked.” More seriously, she added, “We’re happy to have you here. It can’t be easy.” Before they could reply, she gave a last smile and slipped out of the alcove.

Leonard poured them each a generous measure and Jim raised a glass, “To three more years on the Enterprise.”

Raising his own glass in reply, Leonard said, “Three more years with our ship, crew, and family.” They clinked glasses and each took a generous mouthful, groaning in surprised pleasure at just how _good_ it was. Leonard spun the bottle to eyeball the vintage, whistling softly through his teeth once he’d managed to catch his breath. “Damn, that’s good.”

Jim seemed similarly overcome, bringing his glass up for a sniff of the aroma before taking another quick sip, an indecent groan escaping his lips even at the second taste. Stretching his legs out under the table, Jim enjoyed another sip of his bourbon. It had been so long since they’d done this, and it took him right back to a hundred other nights in San Francisco.

He hadn’t appreciated Bones then. Glancing sideways to catch a glimpse of Leonard’s profile, Jim felt a warmth bloom in his chest at just how _handsome_ the other man was. How had he not noticed, for all those years? For all those other nights when he’d started the evening drinking with Bones, and ended up tumbling into someone else’s bed? Bones had been his best friend. His only friend, at first.

As if sensing he was being watched, Leonard glanced back and raised an eyebrow.

Jim smiled, crookedly, “Just admiring the view.”

Leonard snorted and took another swig of his drink.

“Why didn’t we,” Jim waved his glass, “you know, years ago?”

Instead of answering the question directly, Leonard took another sip and said, “You know Phil and Chris were running a bet on us? They both thought we’d get together, but disagreed on how many _years_ it would take us to get our heads out of our asses.”

“Years?”

“Years.”

“Well,” Jim frowned, “that’s something, I guess.”

Leonard reached out with his free hand and took Jim’s in his own, running a finger over the back of the other man’s knuckles. “It took them six years after the academy before they got together. Phil said they saw something of themselves in us.”

“Did you ever resent it, Bones?” Jim traced a finger through where his glass had sweated a ring of water onto the table. “Me running off with someone I met at the bar when we were out together?”

“Naw, not really. I wasn’t ready.” Leonard nudged his feet against Jim’s under the table. “Remember what a mess I was back then? And you weren’t that bad, Jim. I wouldn’t have put up with it if you were. Despite your reputation, I never felt like an afterthought. Not really. We had plenty of nights just for us.” Leonard smiled, slightly sadly, “You never should have believed your own gossip. You weren’t half as bad as they used to say.”

Jim contemplated for a long moment, then straightened as he said, “Hey, Bones?”

“Yeah?”

Jim bumped his shoulder against Leonard’s, “We’re getting married.”

“That we are.” Leonard laughed, a sentiment he never thought he’d express again in his life suddenly seeming so natural, “I can’t wait.”

Jim waved for Leonard to pour another round and they clinked glasses, smiling at each other over the rims. The band launched into another song and Jim laughed when he recognized the opening strains of the classical music; it was older than what he preferred, but he remembered his Grandpa Tiberius singing it when he was little. Lacing the fingers of their free hands together again, Jim leaned towards Leonard’s ear and started to sing along, softly, “Georgia, Georgia, the whole day through...”

Leonard shivered in pleasure: Jim could _sing_ , although he didn’t do it very often. He took another sip of his drink, enjoying the smooth burn of good bourbon as a counterpoint to the honeyed song. 

When the music drew to a close, Jim slid a hand up and around the back of Leonard’s neck, taking a moment to stroke the short hair before pulling him into a slow kiss. The next song was of a similar era, but not one he was familiar with, so Jim contented himself with settling for another kiss before before pulling back. Sliding his hand down to Leonard’s chest, he ran a finger over the ring hanging against the other man’s bare skin and softly said, “Heart of the ship, Bones.”

“You’re crazy, kid.” There was nothing but fondness in Leonard’s eyes.

“Yeah, and you’re going to marry me anyway.”

Leonard rolled his eyes, reaching up to pull Jim towards him for another kiss. The evening passed as the bottle slowly drained, both men enjoying the pleasant hum of activity that was _Earth_.

Pleasantly warmed by the liquor, Leonard leaned against his partner’s side and enjoyed the support of Jim’s body. Twisting his head, he whispered hot breath into the other man’s ear, “Take me home, Jim.” There was a promise in the drawl that had the younger man gulping down the last of his drink and calling for the check.

 

*******

Tiptoeing was never their strong suit, not at two in the morning with more than a few bourbons in them, but Jim and Leonard nonetheless crept through the dark house to Christopher’s room before heading to their own. Boyce had, at least, left a few lamps on low; the trail of illumination anticipating the stop, with a soft hallway light spilling into the boy’s room.

Easing open the bedroom door revealed Christopher sprawled on his stomach, softly breathing in a deep, restful sleep. 

A flash of gold caught Jim’s eye and he paused, leaning further over the bed for a better look. Christopher was holding something clutched tightly to his chest. Leonard seemed to have noticed it as well, and shifted so that he wasn’t blocking the light from the doorway. They both recognized the form of it immediately: a uniform shirt; gold, with captain’s stripes at the sleeves. Christopher was holding it like a security blanket; as they watched, the boy stirred, mouth twisting up in the small smile of a pleasant dream.

It was the uniform top Pike had been wearing when Jim pulled him off the Narada; even carefully laundered, Leonard recognized the telltale tears in the fabric. After a moment, Jim’s breath gave an audible hitch of recognition as well.

Smoothing a hand over Christopher’s hair, Jim softly said the words he’d never heard himself: “Sweet dreams, son.” 

Leonard’s arm curled around Jim’s waist, holding him close as the older man gently turned them back towards the bedroom door. Tiptoeing back into the hallway, Leonard led the way upstairs to the guest bedroom, opening the blinds to reveal an expanse of stars and almost black ocean. It was beautiful, in a lonely sort of way. Maneuvering Jim in front of the large windows, Leonard slipped around to hold the captain tightly from behind. Dropping this chin to Jim’s shoulder, he repeated the words he’d said over five years before, in Georgia. After Khan. “You really want to head back out there, huh?”

Leonard realized this could be a question he’d ask again, and even again in their lives. He could feel the answer in the minute shifts in the younger man’s posture.

They would go to the stars, Jim knew. As a family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who took the time to leave a comment on this, and the rest of the series. Your encouragement and suggestions meant the world to me as I ventured into this fandom.


End file.
